Do Not Forget My Name (Or Mispronounce It)
by YourPontmercyFriend
Summary: Modern day setting. This is the story of why Javert is always introducing himself. Les Mis. Oneshot


Javert. Ja-vair. It's six letters, two syllables, and really shouldn't be an issue for anyone.

Except it is.

Javert's motto through life is 'does it work?" If something doesn't work, you go and find something that does.

He sighed and told the school's vice principal AGAIN.

"It's French, alright sir? Javert. Ignore the t and stop trying to make it Hispanic or something. The j is like the g in mirage, not like an h or whatever it is you're doing."

"Okay, I think I got it." Javert sighed again and walked offstage. Graduation practice was absolutely miserable but damnit, he wasn't going to miss out on being recognized for surviving the hell they called public schools. Some kids thought they had it bad, but they hadn't had to go to twenty different schools throughout the years, now did they?

He sat down in one of the cheap folding chairs they had for graduates and spaced as they read through more student names. Unlike everyone else, he was bringing no one to commencement. His mother was going to be busy working and scraping together money somehow. It disgusted him that she had to practically appropriate her own culture with her fortune teller act but, as he had to admit, it worked.

That stupid vice principal was going to mess his name up, he was sure of it. So he had to find something that worked.

-my friends my friends this is a page break-

Javert felt a tiny bit of sympathy for the school band as he walked into the auditorium. It must have been dull to have to play such a boring song as 400 people walked into a room. He pushed the thought aside and held his head high. This was his night, and in his opinion, no one else's.

He sat down and tried to pay attention to the extremely boring student and district faculty speakers but even the respect he could muster up for authority figures couldn't make him pay attention to the droning voices amplified with a tinny microphone. At last, the time came for him to rise and go up to receive his piece of paper.

Javert climbed up the stairs to the stage to stand beside the vice principal who was supposed to call his name. Right as the man opened his mouth, Javert thought, fuck it.

Before any sound came out Javert grabbed the microphone leaned over, and said, "And I'm Javert."

The audience laughed and Javert didn't take it personally. In fact, he smiled. They would certainly never forget. The adults onstage scowled at him and he smiled sweetly, no, probably 'with attitude' as they would say, as he shook the principal's hand, got his diploma, and sat back down.

Unfortunately, just because you announce your name to thousands of people doesn't mean your troubles are over.

Ga-vert was the most common one. English speakers take one look at it and butcher his name almost beyond comprehension. It wasn't his fault that it seemed every European language had different agendas as far as pronouncing j's, but after hearing the English was of saying Javert Javert was the most frustrated with that version.

'Ha-bert'. Ah yes, the Spanish mess up. That came up often, but at least it wasn't Gavert. To be honest, it was kind of cool if they rolled the r. Not correct, of course, but not the worst.

No, the worst was yet to come.

The police uniform felt right on him, as though he had been born to wear it. He felt comfortable, right, correct, out of the poverty and chaos he had been raised in and where he truly belonged. A keeper of order and guardian of the peace.

Javert walked into the Captain's officer and saluted. "Sir."

"Ah, hello." The police captain had an accent, Javert wasn't entirely sure what it was, but then it happened. He didn't even see it coming, the one variation he'd yet to hear-

"And you are Ya-fert, yes?"

Aha. German.

Oh God WHY did it have to be his brand new boss.

Javert held back a grimance and said, "Yes. That is me." He literally bit his tongue. You don't correct the captain of the police station. You don't do it. You especially don't do it on the first day. Oh God.

It haunted him all day. Maybe he could get other people to say it the right way as he moved up in the ranks but for now, UGH.

The lady at the grocery store scanned his items and he blurted out. "I'm JAVERT!" She jumped back and he quickly apologized. "Sorry."

Is this how it was going to be? he pondered as he told her he would pay with cash. He carried his food out and sat in his car, taking no pleasure in the granola bar he started eating.

Either he was going to move to Quebec or somewhere where French was the default or he was going to spend the rest of his life being passive aggressively pissed off at the world for not knowing how to say his name. Mostly pissed off at his superior officer, but also the rest of the world.

Moving would be a hassle, and he already had a job here.

Go with what works.

Javert glared at the broken cassette deck in his car and barked, "I'm JAVERT!"

So be it.


End file.
